


The Task Inadequacy

by MeganWrites



Series: Rod of Asclepius [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, M/M, car crash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s so reminiscent of his first day of work Ian almost feels like he’s gone back in time. Mickey had said everyone panics at first, he wonders if that still applies more than half a year later. Ian breathes shakily, he knows it doesn’t, he’s just a fuck up."</p><p>Ian is a nervous medical intern, Mickey is a grumpy nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Task Inadequacy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this rather quickly, edited rather quickly, and am now posting. If there are any glaring errors... my bad, I will try to find them tomorrow!
> 
> There is a depiction of the consequences of a car accident - no death or gore - but still. If that's something that triggers you, I am warning you now!

Ian’s seen the same story on the news a hundred times over, different names and different places but all with the same basic headline. Drunk driver causes a car crash, drunk driver leaves crash mostly unscathed, leaves permanent scars behind on innocent victim of their stupidity.

This time is no different.

Beverly Jones had only turned sixteen two weeks earlier, just getting her license and driving for the first time on her own. She followed every rule, paying attention and moving carefully but it didn’t matter in the end. A T-bone collision on the driver’s side should have been enough to kill her, everyone in the hospital keeps saying how lucky she is.

She’s not though. Not as lucky as she should be, not as lucky as the drunk upstairs with stitches and a sprained arm.

Ian stands outside of her room, looking through the window as her parents fret over the position of her blankets and sheets, barely speaking to each other as they move. Ian hates himself right now, hates that he’s about to go in there and hates what he’s about to say. Ian takes a long deep breath and prepares himself to deliver the news.

“Doctor,” Mrs. Jones greets Ian as he steps into the room. Ian shakes both Mr. and Mrs. Jones hands politely with a curt smile aware that the pleasantries will be ending any moment now.

Mr. Jones reaches to take Beverly’s hand and looks at Ian, “so how is our daughter?”

“She’s stable,” Ian says and smiles down at the sleeping girl, “but I have some bad news.”

“What is it?” Mrs. Jones moves to the other side of the bed, clutching at Beverly’s free hand.

Ian hates this.

“There has been a large amount of damage to Beverly’s lower body and back, which makes it impossible for Beverly to move her legs.” Ian speaks carefully, trying to keep his words from shaking as he sees Mrs. Jones eyes begin to water. “It is unfortunately too sever to operate on her with any hope of regaining feeling in her lower extremities.”

Mr. Jones stands and walks closer to Ian, “can’t you do anything?”

“I’m very sorry Mr. and Mrs. Jones, but no, I can't. Short of a miracle, your daughter will never be able to walk again.”

He sees their faces drop instantly, going from so hopeful from seeing their daughter alive to distraught at the idea that their little girl will never be able to walk again. Ian’s never seen a parent so concerned for their child, for a moment it almost makes him jealous that he never had that before he remembers why he’s here.

Mr. Jones breaks the silence first, “what room is the other driver in?”

“I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry,” Ian answers with a shake of his head.

Mr. Jones expression turns dark, his voice scarily low when he responds, “I want to see the bastard who did this to my daughter and make sure he knows exactly what he’s done.”

Ian nods, saying, “I understand where you are coming from sir, but we can’t give that information out. I’m very sorry.”

“What good are you then?!” Mrs. Jones finally bursts the words out. “You can’t fix our daughter and you can’t even give us the slightest bit of justice! This is such a useless fucking place!” Her screams are echoing through the room as tears stream down her cheeks.

Ian tries to keep his face neutral but finds it nearly impossible. He can feel the familiar burn of panic in his chest and he knows he needs to leave. “I’m very sorry, if there is anything else we can do to help you just…” His words taper off as he watches the couples devastated faces, he swallows and tries to keep his voice steady. “We’ll do everything we can to help you. I’m very sorry.”

He turns and walks out of the room as quickly as he can, hearing Mr. Jones harsh words and Mrs. Jones sharp sobs as he leaves. Ian hurries his pace as he walks down the halls, trying to find a closet or on-call room or any doorway that leads to some place semi-private he can hide. He finally finds a door to a stairwell, it’s not the ideal spot but he knows most doctors and patients don’t waste their time with stairs anymore. He rushes inside and slams his back against the wall, sliding down until his is seated properly on the cool cement ground. He breathes in harshly as the panic full sets in and he tries to remember his breathing exercises.

Breathe in _(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.)_ and breathe out.

He feels like a failure, like he’s spent nearly half his life learning how to heal and is now incapable of doing that.

Breathe in  _(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.)_ and breathe out.

It’s so reminiscent of his first day of work Ian almost feels like he’s gone back in time. Mickey had said everyone panics at first, he wonders if that still applies more than half a year later. Ian breathes shakily, he knows it doesn’t, he’s just a fuck up.

Just as Ian is about to breath in again the door slams open and Ian looks up startled. Mickey is standing in the doorway with a determined expression. It’s a mix of anger and concern that leaves Mickey looking more worried than Ian’s seen him before.

“The fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey growls, “I'm dealing with pesky Mrs. Bann and see you stomping down the hall like there’s a fire under your ass.” He crosses his arms and glares, “had to check every fuckin' door on the way down here to see where you were hiding.”

Ian just shrugs, not quite sure he can properly express the words he needs to. He’s still breathing loudly, making panting noises that bounce around the solid walls of the stairwell. He can’t seem to calm himself. “Fuck, Mick,” he says in between sharp breathes. “Shit, fuck.”

Mickey rushes away from the door and drops to his knees as soon as he's situated in front of Ian. He grabs Ian’s hand and grips it tightly, holding Ian down like anchor.

“Alright, Gallagher,” Mickey says, his voice is shaky giving away his own nerves. Ian hates that he’s making Mickey nervous, or that he might be causing any stress for the nurse. Mostly he hates that he even needs Mickey to be there with him. Ian is a doctor, he should be able to handle this on his own.

“When I was nineteen my brother’s and I were robbing this house on the Northside. We got a tip from the guy who was paying us to get the job done that there would just be this batty old lady there, too fucked up on drugs and booze to even notice us taking all her stuff in the middle of the day.” Mickey smiles at the memory, Ian finds his breathing starting to normalize as Mickey talks. “So we were grabbing all this fuckin' shit, didn’t even bring guns in because apparently we’re fuckin' stupid, and then Iggy and me see this big fuckin' clock. Looked like it was worth a lot of money so we tried to take it, turns out the thing is the clock is too heavy for us. We drop it, batty old bitch comes down the stairs with a fuckin' shotgun and we’re booking it out of there fast as we can. Didn’t matter though ‘cause she starts firing and shoots me in the ass.”

Ian huffs a laugh, his breathing is mostly back to normal. Just hearing Mickey speak, no matter the context, seems to have a calming effect on him.

“You have a scar to prove that?”

Mickey grins cheekily, “curious little fucker, you are. I’ll show you sometime, Firecrotch.”

Ian laughs again, this time louder and more easily. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Mickey snorts and shoves at Ian’s arm, “man, shut the fuck up.”

“You’re the one who offered to show me your ass, so…” Ian raises his free hand in defense as he speaks.

Mickey rolls his eyes and moves, dropping to sit beside Ian and rest his back against the wall. He clicks his tongue a couple times and Ian knows what’s coming. “You feel like telling me what happened?”

Ian looks down at his hands and swallows. “The girl, in the car accident with the drunk driver, she’s never gonna be able to walk again.”

Mickey nods and tilts his head back, looking up at the distant ceiling of the stairwell. “Shit, fuckin' hate that about this job. Some people just get shitty luck when they don’t deserve it, sucks to watch happen.”

Ian can feel the burning in his chest again and tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “I just can’t believe it though, she’s only sixteen and she can’t fucking walk.” He swallows as his watery eyes begin to leak, leaving thin streaks on his cheeks. “You should’ve seen her parents, they were so mad at me and all they wanted was to see the fucker who did this to her. He would deserve that. He would deserve them fucking yelling in his face about the shit that he did, but I can’t let them do that. I can’t help them, I can’t do anything to help them. I can’t fix their daughter, I can’t even do my fucking job!” He lets out a choked out sob as he finishes speaking, feeling more pathetic than he has since that first day – probably more pathetic now than then.

Mickey is immediately grabbing Ian’s shoulder and turning him to face Mickey. “What the fuck? How can you even think that? It’s not your fault that some asshole got drunk, and it’s not your fault that some things can’t be fixed. Fuck Ian, you can’t think that way, you have no fuckin' clue how great you are.” He reaches up to Ian’s face, cradling Ian’s cheek with his hand and using his thumb to wipe away tears.

“You really think so?” Ian whispers.

Mickey swallows and nods slowly, it’s only then that Ian notices how close they are to each other. Mickey’s eyes are focused on Ian’s face, his thumb brushing across Ian’s cheekbone as if he were still wiping away the tears that are no longer there.

Ian keeps his voice soft but clear as he speaks, “sometimes I just don’t feel that great.”

Mickey frowns, his eyes boring into Ian's own eyes and Ian can almost feel the crackling intensity of the moment.

“I don’t want you to ever think that.”

Ian’s heart swells at the words but doesn’t have much time to focus on it before Mickey surges forward and presses their lips together. It’s so simple and chaste but still makes Ian feel wobbly and lightheaded. As Mickey draws back his eyes are wide and his mouth drops open the slightest bit, he looks as shocked as Ian feels.

“Fuck,” he breathes and drops his hand from Ian’s face. Mickey turns away, pulling his knees up and running his hands over his face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he starts a muffled chant of the word.

Ian wants to say something, wants to do something, so desperately wants Mickey to know that he wants this – wants more. Except he’s too shocked to speak, or move. The last hour has been a complete rollercoaster, going from disappointing a small family to having Mickey kissing him in an empty stairwell (something he’s been dreaming about since the first time he ever set eyes on Mickey). He’s pretty sure he’s in shock, but it’s a good shock. He feels so warm and content, all his fears and worries from earlier drifting away to the back of his mind.

Mickey stands up and Ian begins to panic, flailing slightly as he moves to stand up as well, calling out, “wait - stop!” Mickey turns to look at Ian, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth – a nervous tick that Ian’s come to recognize on him. “Just don’t go,” Ian pleads, “please don’t.”

“I can’t do this,” Mickey whispers harshly in a tone Ian is sure is supposed to come off more aggressive than it does.

Ian shakes his head and walks over to Mickey, taking it as a good sign when he doesn’t shy away. “Please, just…” he slows his words and raises his hand to brush his fingers against Mickey’s arms, focusing on the way Mickey’s skin pebbles on the surface at his touch. “Just do _this_ ,” he steps closer until their within a breath of each other. Mickey’s gaze moves from Ian's eyes to his lips and back again within quick succession. “You can, if you want. I want to, I need to, so badly.” He doesn’t make a move as he stares down at Mickey, “just tell me we can do this.”

Mickey doesn’t answer with words, instead choosing to wrap a hand behind Ian’s neck and pull him down to his height, slotting their lips and kissing Ian deeply. It’s overwhelming and addicting. Mickey parts his lips and draws Ian closer, his tongue darting out to run along the seam of Ian’s lips until he’s granted access. Ian moans and wraps his arms around Mickey’s waist, desperate for more while at the same time never wanting this kiss to end. His knees feel weak and he’s sure he would have fallen if Mickey weren’t here to hold him up.

Nothing’s ever felt this right.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr :)](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


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